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"If you don't like him, why not set him free?" Hermione pleaded. "It's not complicated! I've heard you just have to give a house-elf a piece of clothing! Then they're free!"
Sirius gave a slight nod to Anthony as he entered, then replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't like him, and he doesn't like me. So I sent him to help Harry instead." His face broke into a genuine smile as he turned. "Speaking of which, Harry—has Kreacher been useful? Has that Malfoy brat dared send his house-elf to bother you again?"
Sirius looked far better than the last time Anthony had seen him. His cheeks weren't so terrifyingly hollow. His hair was trimmed shorter. That hollow, crazed look Azkaban had stamped on him had faded considerably. When he looked at Harry, the warmth in his eyes made him seem almost radiant.
Harry hesitated.
Hermione looked pleadingly between Harry and Ron. "He did try to tell Dobby to stop, didn't he?"
Ron shrugged. "Well, he was loud about it."
"That Dobby creature is back?" Sirius frowned. "Flying Bludgers, flying cauldrons… what was it this time? Flying pumpkins?"
"Flying essays. Wasn't a big deal," Harry said with a lopsided grin. "Malfoy was just scared he couldn't take Fred and George, so he got his elf to fight for him. Didn't work out for him. Lost ten points from McGonagall."
"I thought Hogwarts banned house-elf fights," Sirius said, his gaze shifting to Anthony.
Anthony cleared his throat. "Well… Mr. Malfoy claimed he was attacked first, so he summoned Dobby for 'protection.' You know. That's the only reason private elves are allowed in the castle. Same reason Kreacher can be here."
"Cowardly and sneaky. Typical Slytherin," Sirius scoffed. "Harry, listen. Next time you see Malfoy, have Kreacher give him a little… prank. Just to protect your own nose from that Slytherin stench he carries. Let's see if he's still brave enough to use elves against his classmates."
Hermione frowned. Ron, however, looked mildly intrigued.
Harry shook his head vigorously. "No! And Kreacher already gave Snape ammunition… For a whole month, he kept hinting I was trying to use Kreacher to plagiarize essays or handle potion ingredients or something. Sirius, can't you just take Kreacher back—or give him clothes like Hermione says? He's just making everyone miserable."
"Tell him you're kicking him out of the Black family. Then he'll show you what 'making people miserable' really looks like. He's quite good at that," Sirius said flatly. Then he raised his voice. "Kreacher!"
A loud CRACK. Kreacher appeared before Sirius. The ancient elf bowed so low his long, hooked nose pressed against the polished floor of the office. Anthony took a step aside, making room.
"What can Kreacher do for Master?" Kreacher croaked. Then he muttered toward his own bare, knobbly toes, "Master is a disappointing blood traitor. Master has surely ruined the noble house in ways Kreacher does not know. Oh, if only Kreacher could—"
"Enough. Get up," Sirius snapped, impatient. "That Dobby showed up again, didn't he? Did you fight back? Or are you truly just a useless old relic?"
Kreacher straightened. His red-rimmed, milky eyes scanned the Headmaster's office until they landed on Harry. Anthony was surprised the elf's ancient face could twist into an expression of even deeper resentment.
"Kreacher obeyed Master's order. Kreacher followed the Potter boy. Kreacher did what the Potter boy told Kreacher to do," Kreacher said, bowing again to Sirius. "What would poor Mistress say, seeing Master make Kreacher serve someone not of the Noble House of Black… But Master has always been ungrateful, wicked, foul—"
"Really?" Sirius said, his voice icy. "What did you do to that Dobby?"
"Kreacher told him to stop," Kreacher said, bowing once more in a quick, jerky motion. "What more could Kreacher do? Kreacher saw young Master Malfoy. Well-spoken. Well-mannered. A true grandson of Mistress. Dobby is honored to serve such a master. Kreacher had no wish to stop young Master Malfoy. Compared to him, the Potter boy is common, rude—"
"Shut up!" Sirius barked.
Kreacher bowed deeply and fell silent. But his bulging, pale eyes still fixed on Harry with pure malice.
"Don't," Hermione pleaded softly. "Be patient with him, Sirius."
Sirius let out a sharp breath, rubbing his forehead. "Easy for you to say."
"That Mudblood dares to give Master orders…" Kreacher mumbled under his breath, furious.
Sirius whipped his head around, glaring at the elf.
"If Mistress knew what had become of the noble House of Black, she would weep—"
The office door swung open.
"I do hope you're all having a pleasant chat, but I'm afraid—" Albus Dumbledore strode in, his steps light. He blinked at the gathered crowd, a pleased twinkle in his eyes. "More people than I anticipated. But welcome, of course."
"Dumbledore, I still maintain—" Severus Snape followed the Headmaster in. He stopped dead the moment he saw Sirius. "Oh."
Sirius instantly abandoned his glare at Kreacher. His eyes narrowed at Snape, alert and hostile.
"Am I interrupting your lessons in teaching house-elves new tricks?" Snape sneered. "Ah, but of course. You're busy currying favor with Potter, Black."
Sirius took a few steps forward, deliberately placing himself between Snape and Harry.
"Still can't keep your oversized nose out of other people's business, Snape?" he asked with open disgust. "What are you doing here?"
"If your brain is failing you, it's hardly a new development," Snape said silkily. "Allow me to remind you, this is Hogwarts. I am a professor at Hogwarts. So the more pertinent question is: what are you doing here?"
"I invited him, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, moving around his desk to sit. "Oh, and Harry—I haven't yet congratulated you on winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor."
Snape's face darkened instantly.
"Harry flew brilliantly, didn't he?" Sirius said, a triumphant edge to his voice. "Once no one was using underhanded tactics to interfere. Like cursing a Bludger via a house-elf." He paused, deliberately theatrical. "Oh, I almost forgot. That's a Slytherin specialty when it comes to elf tricks, isn't it?"
"Nobody—" Snape began, then his eyes suddenly sharpened. "Speaking of house-elves… I've heard some interesting rumors lately. Without its elf, 12 Grimmauld Place seems rather… unsettled."
Now it was Sirius's turn to look grim.
"What happened, Sirius?" Harry asked, concerned. "You should just take Kreacher back. He's no help to me here anyway."
"Must you talk about Kreacher like he's an object, Harry?" Hermione protested.
"Ah, yes," Snape said, a mocking eyebrow raised. "To my knowledge, Potter has also joined some peculiar society called 'S.P.E.W.,' dedicated to liberating all elves oppressed by wizards." He spoke with dripping sarcasm, casting a brief, contemptuous glance at the outraged Hermione before looking away. "But of course, he must keep his own private elf close by. To bully classmates. To finish homework… Celebrities do enjoy certain privileges, don't they?"
"I did not!" Harry shot back fiercely.
"Bully classmates?" Sirius snorted. "If Malfoy hadn't brought his private elf into the school first, who would have even thought of such a cheap tactic?"
Anthony spoke up. "Why don't we just ban private house-elves from the school altogether?"
Sirius and Snape both turned to look at him, as if noticing his presence for the first time. Anthony glanced at Dumbledore. The Headmaster had steepled his fingers, watching the proceedings with keen interest.
"I mean, Professor Snape doesn't want Kreacher here. Mr. Black—Sirius—doesn't want Dobby here." Anthony's eyes met Harry's. "And Mr. Potter doesn't want either Kreacher or Dobby here. Correct?"
"That seems to be the consensus," Dumbledore agreed.
"Kreacher is here because Dobby is here. Dobby is here because…" Anthony's mind supplied images of himself, slugs, and Gilderoy Lockhart.
Ron muttered, "Because Malfoy won't admit he deserved it. Should've hit him with a nastier hex when I had the chance."
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said smoothly. "For a lack of remorse."
Sirius jerked upright, his wand flashing out from within his robes. Snape's wand was in his hand a heartbeat later.
"—because Mr. Malfoy didn't receive timely medical attention," Anthony said loudly, stepping between the two men. He immediately felt the hatred crackling in the air between them. Thank God he was already dead. He kept his eyes on Snape. "But what Dobby has been doing proves he's unfit to continue protecting Mr. Malfoy. He causes too much chaos, Professor."
"Kindly lower your wands," Dumbledore said, his voice calm but firm. "There are no enemies here."
Sirius glared past Anthony at Snape for several long seconds before lowering his wand with obvious reluctance. Snape gave a cold smirk and slid his wand back into his sleeve.
"Do you have further reasoning, Henry?" Dumbledore asked.
"Well… Kreacher himself doesn't seem to enjoy being near Mr. Potter," Anthony said. "Dobby… I don't know his thoughts. But overall, the simplest solution seems to be to refuse entry to all private house-elves. The castle's magic can do that, can't it?"
"Certainly," Dumbledore said. "As for Dobby's opinion—Dobby, could you join us, please?"
POP.
Another elf appeared in the office. He was clearly younger than Kreacher, with much brighter, larger eyes. But both elves shared the same small, emaciated frame.
"Dobby has been summoned by Professor Dumbledore!" Dobby squeaked in his high, thin voice. "Dumbledore is the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen! What can Dobby do for the great Professor Dumbledore?"
"Hello, Dobby," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. "I was wondering if you would be willing to leave your master's side for a time and return to Malfoy Manor? We are discussing banning private house-elves from entering Hogwarts."
Dobby gasped. His enormous eyes instantly filled with tears.
"Professor Dumbledore wants to know what Dobby thinks! Professor Dumbledore is so powerful, he could just send Dobby away, but he wants to know what Dobby thinks!" Dobby sobbed. "Oh, how Dobby wishes he could stay at Hogwarts! Stay near Harry Potter! Dobby does not want to go back to—" He cut himself off, eyes widening in terror. He lunged for a silver instrument on the desk. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Dumbledore stood up, moving with surprising agility. He rounded the desk and caught the elf by his thin shoulders just before Dobby could smash his head against a sharp corner of the peculiar device. His expression was grave. "I declare you have punished yourself sufficiently."
"D-Dobby," the elf hiccupped, tears streaming down his face. "Dobby agrees to go back to the master's house. For that is Dobby's fate… Dobby must serve the master's family forever, until Dobby dies…"
"You should be honored!" Kreacher rasped. "Your mistress was a Black! And the Malfoys you serve uphold the traditions of noble pure-blood families! If poor Mistress could see what Master has become—"
Sirius said flatly, "Shut up—not you, Dobby. Though I suppose I can't command you either."
Dobby wept, his whole body trembling. "At the master's house, no one stops Dobby when Dobby punishes himself… Dobby irons his fingers. Dobby sticks his head in the oven. Dobby puts his nose in boiling water… Yes. Dobby agrees to go back. Even though sometimes, the master thinks of new punishments. Tells Dobby to do it harder…"
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, god."
"But Dobby must go back…" Dobby whispered. "If Dobby goes back, and Hogwarts bans private elves, then Harry Potter will be safer! Yes. Dobby will go back." He turned to Harry. His enormous, tear-filled eyes fixed on the boy with heartbreaking intensity. "Harry Potter… Hogwarts is very safe. The great Harry Potter can live safely here! Oh, Dobby only hopes he can see Harry Potter again someday!"
He reached out one long, bony finger, as if to touch Harry's hand. Sirius shifted slightly, but Dobby's hand stopped in mid-air.
"Dobby is going. Goodbye, Harry Potter!"
SNAP.
He vanished.
Silence hung in the Headmaster's office for a long moment. Anthony felt a sick, twisting knot of guilt in his gut. He'd been the one to suggest the ban. Now he felt like he'd personally shoved Dobby back into hell.
"Well?" Snape said, his gaze fixed on Sirius.
Sirius turned. His command to Kreacher was sharp. "Go. Back to Grimmauld Place."
Kreacher bowed until his nose touched the floor. He vanished.
"I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts," Dumbledore announced. Anthony felt—or thought he felt—a deep, subtle tremor run through the castle's ancient stones. A vibration in the magic itself. Or perhaps it was just his imagination. "Hereby declare that from this moment, the castle shall refuse entry to all private house-elves." He turned to Snape. "Severus, would you be so kind as to write to Lucius informing him of Hogwarts' new policy?"
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